My Florence Nightingale

Chairgate ’09 was finally resolved, or so I think. Like many a March it went out with a whimper and not a bang.

The trouble started with the unlikely event of my being spotted in the cafeteria Tuesday by my Chair Lady bete noir. I didn't think she saw me but in retrospect if she didn't notice me initially she would've by my non-subtle evasive tactics, i.e. running at top speed in a crouched position carrying three dinners. I get so few opportunities in daily life to act like Jack Bauer that I found this one irresistible.

Having penetrated her frontal lobe she made a phone call to our secretary to check up on my progress in becoming properly chair'd. The subsequent error was our secretary mentioning the tragic situation to a boss three levels above me. Anyone with a cursory knowledge of office politics knows that you want to pick your battles, and the battle for my old chair was not one I wanted picked. But I daresay our secretary lives for these moments. It’s a bonding experience – between myself and her surely but it also plays to the whole scapegoat thing, the scapegoat being the outsider insisting our chairs match the furnishings as if we’re modelling for a cover shot on “Corporation Today” magazine. The sublime ridiculousness of it got her attention too. And half of us are just trying to feel meaningful and so, God love her, she tilts at windmills like trying to resolve my chair situation.

Word came down that the boss three levels above me, who hereafter will be referred to as BTLAM, was very supportive. He would use his great power and kill any would-be usurpers of my old chair. That seemed to end the matter although I was expressed my disappointment of myself to the secretary for my not having told her not to tell BTLAM of the chair situation.

But a day or two later BTLAM apparentally had second thoughts. He gave the matter over to the boss two levels above me (interesting, also acronymed by BTLAM). This BTLAM was 38% less impressed by my cause. He said I would have to report to a corporate nurse forthwith in order to secure a proper defense for the chair. I’d resisted up to the point both for the hassle and because my understanding was that said nurse would still not sanction said old chair. But I was convinced things were getting out of hand enough that I should see a nurse.

I explained the situation crisply, in about 15 seconds, and Nurse Nightingale smiled and said I could keep my old chair. Just like that. She would send a message, issue over. It was like justice and mercy kissing.

Now sure I was underwhelmed when the email she sent got my name completely wrong. She combined my first name with my bosses’s last name. But I still think it’s binding. At least I hope. Though stay tuned for further updates.